Friday, December 31, 2010

It has been brought to my attention that perhaps my one and only friend died quasi-peacefully on the kitchen floor roughly 6 months ago. His name? Bentley Eugene of Circle Drive. Do you know why I consider him to be my only friend? Upon him reading my plea for submissions for my advice column, he may have responded with the following and in doing so made my day.

Bare Bonsey,

I'm partially blind with a wonky eye that goo's. I have a peg leg turned inward, halitosis, I am crack-fiend skinny, genderless and have a terrible disposition. But, I'm a lady killer. I don't ever plan on changing my ways. Not even sure what you should do with this information.

I need extra food in my bowl 'cause Prisscilla is coming over for dinner.

Bentley Eugene

Even from the grave, he speaks. I realize that I am completely odd and unworthy of your following. Does it help that my sister's trust me with their children? No. Okay then.

A buddy of his hunts from his Mississippi-based back porch. Klassy, I know. One day he spotted what turned out to be a 13 point buck in his backyard. His friend got out his bow and arrow and from the comfort of his Lay-Z-Boy, got a nice clean shot. The deer took off towards the woods leaving a trail of blood that he and a few of his friends tracked for over 5 hours. They had almost given up until they went searching through an upscale neighborhood and spotted the coveted rack and body... in a child's sandbox, replete with plastic toys. Bled out. "Right in view of the kitchen sink!" he reported. Merry Christmas, little Timmy!

Friday, December 17, 2010

Is "thrice" even used correctly? No matter, I love the word. You know what other word is fun to write and say? Delicatessen. Do you know what is not fun at all? Birds.

But seriously, it's that time again when I cordially invite you to write to me, Bare Bonsey, about your problems, issues, conundrums, malaise's, etc, etc. In other words, I want to be your personal Santa, but not with tangible gifts under your tree, just advice giving.

My helpful suggestions are merely swirling in cerebral quarantine until you start screwing up your life or someone else's and need me to bail you out.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

I have wondered on many occasions what kind of information is passed along in the heavenly realm from those recently passed on to those entrenched in their heavenly routine. The thought has again entered my mind as an older lady friend has recently passed away. Jean was a friend of mine, as well as a dear friend of mom's.

This opens a whole can of celestial worms in which I can only offer my own conjecture and nothing else. You may dissent but only on the grounds that you are as inconclusively hopeful as I am about the prospect of heavenly protocol.

One question I have is did Jean just show up at mom's residence? Was mom tending her garden, maybe humming a hymn? Was she reading? Was she at her parent’s house for a visit? Was she with, well, the Lord and missed Jean's house call?

Did she have advance notice of her friend coming home? Is it a feeling she gets or is she alerted by someone/something?

Did they meet over tea? We are told there will be feasts in heaven. Feasts that do not wreak havoc on your buttocks and thighs. Please excuse me while I sing the Hallelujah chorus.

Was Jean able to talk to mom regarding earthly things? I realize there is no sadness in heaven but we are told there is joy. Joy that could be found in earthly manifestations of good-will, godly bonds, those "Ah-ha!" moments where the tangled mess of life's tapestry is transformed by turning over the mangled picture to reveal something beautiful on the other side. I am almost certain they share that information. Don't you think?

But still, selfishly, a part of me wonders if mom thinks and inquires about us individually. Her close friends, her four children, six grand-children...

However whimsical I wish to be in this regard, I'm pretty certain her entire mind, spirit, motivation and attention have been completely transformed to such an extent that it makes these questions null and quite self-centered. Yet, I can only operate within my own framework of knowledge and inquiry about what the future holds for us left behind and for those who have gone on before us. What we do know {in faith}, is that it is good, good, good.

1 Corinthians 2:9

But just as it is written, "Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, And [which] have not entered the heart of man, all that God has prepared for those who love Him."

Thursday, December 9, 2010

All clean and sparkly, ready to go home to mom and pop where they can ponder on why, just why, it takes me* 30 minutes at 6:00am in the bitter, religion losing cold to decide what piece of land I am going to defecate on.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

My "little" brother and I took in the sights of our beloved Chicago a few weeks ago. If I was to move anywhere back up north, it would be to that windy, fabulous city. And, if I could manage it, I would take him with me and keep him in my closet.

This picture is a reminder that ALL are God's children. Even the ugly ones.

Your friend in CAGO.﻿

This was taken after walking in the wrong direction for 5 or so blocks in 22 degree heat. I pleaded with him before saying, "Do NOT, do NOT ask me if we are going in the right direction. Is that map in Chinese?" Although great at stringing beads and sitting still, I am hopeless with city grids and arriving at destinations.

Our second or third Starbucks purchase of the day. Get while the getting is good I always say.

Taken at an amazing Thai restaurant near Lake Michigan. My wide eyes tell the story of copious amounts of caffeine ingested. ﻿

Culturing him is no easy tusk.

Sorry.

The 95th Floor of the John Hancock building at night. What was supposed to be a blinding flash of light against the glass in hopes of a shot of the city turned out to be a pretty cool picture of Mr. GQ himself.

And on your left, kids, is a pervert.

Winding down and finding our way to Union Station. The ending to a successful, relaxing day in the city with one of my favorite guys, ever.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

May your holidays be full of cute dogs who love snow and re-heated day old coffee that is making your stomach hurt.

P.S Please refrain from snickering at the decades old TV sitting tired and haggard in the background. The back-end on that entertainment hog extends out about 4 feet and weighs in at around 560 pounds. Dad commented as he was hauling it from the moving tuck that there was a lot of "junk in that trunk." I laughed not because he was using slang appropriately but because he was stating that there was, in fact, junk in the trunk (of the car). Dagummit, I love that man.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

It's not like I have a lack of things to tell you about that stem from a hungry, confused mind. I just forget to tell you about them or simply run out of time. As soon as I get to sitting down and typing them out in fractured sentences, my boss interrupts me and asks for stuff to get done so I can stay active on payroll. You know, "stuff" like DHHR compliance (who cares), or an employee making highly inappropriate comments to another employee (tattle-tale sissies) or, the highlight of my day today...

BB: "I received your resume and was able to review it. If it's convenient, I would like to ask you a few questions. Now, what prompted you to apply to here"?

Applicant: "Can you explayn thayt?"

BB: "Sure. What was it about this job that struck a chord in you? What made you decide this would be a good fit?"

Applicant: "Ye meyn personally? It was in the payper ye know..."

BB: "Yes. You personally. What do you think makes this job appealin... a happy place to work?"

Applicant: "Hm?"

BB: "Welp, I think my building is on fire. I need to go. But, we'll keep your resume on file for reasons unforeseen or desperation so unimaginable. Thank you for your time."

Applicant: "Hm?"

Okay, so there were a few embellishments, but only a few. Our building was NOT on fire today. Occasionally when I have an preliminary phone interview with a candidate whose skill set would be better suited for cave-dwelling, I'll do the universal finger across the jugular move or blunt knife to the wrist in a rapid fire motion or gun to the temple, etc, etc, etc. These are all S.O.S signals to my co-worker sitting directly across the hall from my desk. She always laughs at this because she is my friend and has a highly evolved sense of humor.